An Ending & a Beginning
by Anderida
Summary: Joyce's funeral. Buffy and Spike grieve together over a cup of tea and come to an understanding. In two chapters. My muse may not always respect cannon. :
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect, and for fun, not profit. I promise to return them when I've finished with them (but can I keep Spike, pretty please? I'll treat him well, sooo well!).

**An Ending and a Beginning**

Taking care to stay downwind so as not to alert his grand-sire to his presence, Spike watched Angelus exit the cemetery from the top of a tomb where he had been waiting all night for this moment. He sighed to himself, sad that the Slayer had taken comfort in the arms of Captain Forehead, but sadder still that the great hero was leaving the Slayer to grieve for her mother alone.

"Fucking git!" he murmured to the cold night air. Morning would be upon him shortly. He had just enough time to pay his respects to his surrogate mum, snatched from this world before her time. Wiping an unbidden tear from his eye, and checking to make sure he could no longer sense Angelus nearby, Spike jumped from the tomb and made his way to the earth pile that covered the mortal remains of a woman he had come to love.

"Spike?" There were equal measures of contempt and surprise in Buffy's voice.

Spike came to a sudden halt by a row of recent headstones. Buffy was standing alongside the newly dug grave and her tense posture showed she was ready to spring into action at any moment.

"Slayer? Thought you'd have toddled off to bed when your pen-pal left."

"Pen-pal? Oh, so you saw Angel?"

"Angel, Angelus, White Knight with Shining Forehead, whatever," Spike sarked dismissively.

Buffy's body relaxed into a slouch, taking on an air of immense tiredness.

"Look Spike, I'm not in the mood. Will you just go away?"

"Come to pay my respects, pet," he replied softly.

"Oh, I, er, oh, er, ok. I mean, really?" Buffy's deeply furrowed brow showed that she was having difficultly processing this piece of information.

"Yeah, pet. She was a smashing woman, your mum. She was decent and she didn' have any airs. I'll miss my chats with her and the hot chocolate she used to make with those little marsh ….."

Buffy cut him off before he could finish, her incredulity tinged with anger, "You're talking like you were friends or something. She put up with you. My mum didn't know the real you or she wouldn't have …. wouldn't have been so …. so ….. nice!"

"Yer mum was a nice lady, pet. And she liked me!"

"Liked you?" Buffy's stance tensed again.

Spike's exasperation was evident. "Look, Slayer, you may not believe this; you may not like this. But the fact is that me and your mum were good mates. She was a fine woman, easy to talk to and, unlike her offspring, not at all judgmental. She treated me with respect and compassion. She treated me like a man. I just need to say my goodbyes. OK?"

Buffy looked bewildered as she nodded mutely and moved back to afford Spike access to the strip of lawn at the base of a pile of the recently turned earth that was piled with flowers.

Casting his eyes to the eastern horizon, Spike knelt on the damp grass. Mumbling, as if to himself, Spike began, "Sorry Joyce. I had hoped to get here earlier but you had visitors. Can't stay as long as I'd have liked 'coz sunrise is not my best time of day. But I promise I'll be by again. I'm glad you won't ever have those headaches again but I'm sorry that you won't be there for me with your hot chocolate and sensible advice. Keep safe, Joyce. I'll miss you."

With that Spike rose to his feet and inclined his head for a nanosecond before setting off in the direction of his crypt with long purposeful strides, leaving Buffy standing with her mouth open.

Back at his lair, Spike flicked the switch on his electric kettle, 'liberated' from Giles a while back, and solemnly set about preparing himself a cup of tea. "Joyce would approve", he mused out loud to the ether.

"Approve of what?"

Spike shot round at the sound of Buffy's voice. Engrossed in his thoughts about Joyce, he hadn't heard Buffy enter his crypt. He berated himself for being so lax and wondered why Buffy hadn't smashed her way in like she usually did when she wanted information or suspected him of some heinous crime.

"Wassup, pet?" He asked, head tilted to one side in enquiry.

"My mom would approve of what exactly?" Buffy stood, drawn to her full height, which wasn't much for a Californian girl, with her hands firmly on her hips and distaste written across her features.

"Me having a cuppa, if you must know, Slayer."

"A cup of what? Blood?" Because my mom would really NOT approve .."

She didn't get to finish her sentence before Spike cut in, "Tea you colonial clot! A cuppa is a cup of tea! Crikey, what do they teach you in these schools?"

He rummaged around for a tea bag in an old insulated ice box that served as his larder-cum-dresser, before chucking it in a mug bearing the legend "Willy's Bar, Cable Sports and Fights Daily", along with a poor reproduction of a photo of said Willy wearing a scowl to make any demon feel at home.

"So's how lil' bit bearing up?" He asked conversationally.

"Er, ok I guess. You know: as well as. Tara's taken her back to hers tonight."

"S'good. Glinda's a good un'."

He got a distracted "Mm," in reply.

Spike poured the boiling water into the mug and, acutely aware that his every move was being scrutinised, asked, "D'you fancy a cuppa, Slayer."

No, er no, er, oh alright, yes please." She sounded confused by what Spike thought was a simple enough question.

"Right y'are, Slayer. One cuppa coming up!" He didn't ask if she took sugar; he knew from his observation of her that she only took sugar in coffee.

Spike grabbed another mug from the ice box, this one boldly stating 'World's Best Uncle', adding tea bag and water as before.

He retrieved a carton of milk from his eBay fridge which he poured into each mug after discarding the tea bags and adding them to a pile of used tea bags in a jar alongside.

"There you go, pet," he said as he handed Buffy her drink.

Taking the proffered mug with a brief nod of thanks, Buffy asked with ill-concealed disbelief, "Uncle? You're an uncle?"

Rather than explain that Clem's daughter called him Uncle Spike, a title he was immensely proud of but didn't want to be widely known for fear of further damaging his already tarnished 'Big Bad' reputation, he simply lied, "Must've eaten one once."

A derisive snort from Buffy told him his lie had been believed.

An uncomfortable silence began to envelope them before Spike remembered his manners and, indicating towards a junkyard sofa, he murmured, "Take a seat, luv."

After a moment's hesitation accompanied by look of confusion on Buffy's face, she moved slowly to the sofa and sat perched on the edge as though she was sitting on razor blades on the edge of a volcano.

"Relax, luv," Spike said softly as he flopped into a faux leather recliner that he'd exacted in payment for a poker debt, instead of the usual kittens, so that Clem would have somewhere comfy to sit when he visited. "You've had a rough day."

As he watched, an amazing sight unfolded: the Slayer began to cry!

For a few seconds Spike sat there mesmerised as Buffy dipped her head and shook with silent sobs.

As the first tear hit the surface of her mug of tea, Spike sprung into action. Putting his own mug on the upturned beer crate that served as a coffee table, he shifted out of his seat to the sofa in one seamless movement. He prised Buffy's mug from her hands that were clamped together on her lap and, without a conscious thought, he scooted next to Buffy, flung his arm round her shoulder and pulled her against his body. If Buffy objected she gave no sign but instead turned her head into his chest and began to cry audibly.

Spike was hit by a wave of unfamiliar feelings. He marvelled that only a few short weeks ago he had stormed to this chit's home, gun in hand to end her life. And no, he hadn't managed to sustain his anger long enough to carry through with his plan, but then he and plans had never worked that well together.

Now he found himself stroking the Slayer's arm murmuring words of comfort to her and, as wrong as it seemed, wanting desperately to end her pain.

Lost in his thoughts Spike couldn't say how long he had sat trying to comfort the Slayer, rocking her gently, before her tears stopped and she sat bolt upright pulling away from him.

"I'm s-sorry. S-so sorry," she mumbled staring down at her feet as she shuffled sideways to put some space between them.

"Hey, pet, no worries," Spike said softly. "You've had a rough time; been through a lot lately. It's understandable you're upset. I know what it's like to lose a mum before her time."

Buffy's raised her head to look directly at him, her eyes filled with surprise. "You - you lost your mom?" she managed feebly.

"Well, yeah! Over a hundred years old here so kinda inevitable, y'know," he smiled weakly at her. "But, yeah, she died before she should have. Took me a long time to deal."

"I'm sorry"

"Thanks, but it was a long time ago." It was Spike's turn to look intently at his footwear.

"Does, does it always feel this painful?"

Spike raised his head, his blue eyes meeting red-rimmed green ones. "Aw, bless you, luv! Don' worry, it will get easier, promise."

"I hurt so much," came Buffy's candid declaration, barely audible even to the being sitting next to her with vampire hearing.

Spike slid across and again threw his arm around her shoulders without thinking. He was surprised at his own actions and even more surprised when she didn't pull away again.

"Buffy, luv, we all hurt when we lose someone we love. It's just nature's way. But it will get easier."

Buffy raised her eyes to meet his once again, a questioning look, tinged with hope.

Spike continued, "You never stop loving them, right? And don' believe all that crap about time being a great healer and all that rot. This kinda wound never heals."

He felt a sharp intake of breath and tightened his arm around the small chit of a girl who had had more than enough to deal with already in her short life.

"No, luv, I don' mean it won' get better. It will, I promise. But you never forget the person or the pain of their loss. It's just that you get better at living each day with the knowledge of that loss. You get more practised at pushing your hurt into a little box in your head where you can lock it away. But it's still there, like some precious package to remind you of how much you loved that person."

"Precious package?" Buffy's brow creased with confusion.

"Yeah, pet. You never want to forget your mum, right?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Right, so nature leaves you with that memory, but for each yin, there's a yang in nature, right? So you get to remember the pain of loss too. It's how you know how much you loved."

Buffy nodded slowly, appearing to digest Spike's words. After a moment she asked, "Do you still remember the loss of _your_ mother?"

Spike turned to regard some seemingly fascinated point on the far wall of his crypt. "Yeah, luv. Worst night of my life," he confided quietly.

"Worse than being, um, turned?" Buffy wanted to know.

"Thousand times, thousand times. But it was the night after I was turned so not such a good week for me, y'know."

"Tell me," Buffy urged.

"Not much to tell. M'mum was dying. TB. We called it 'consumption' then. Incurable. Dru had just turned me and was trying to carry out her role as Sire – y'know, tell me what it meant to be a vampire. But she was as cracked then as she is now, which is why Angelus had to step in eventually to finish what she had started."

Spike could feel Buffy tense at the mention of that part of the Scourge of Europe. He continued on quickly.

"Yeah well, the night after I rose, me and Dru paid a visit to me mum. Mum was coughing as usual, but trying to be a good hostess to Dru, who was floatin' everywhere saying how we should all be a family. Well, then it struck me. Vamps don' get ill; I could cure my mum's TB."

"Cure? How cure?" Buffy asked with naked curiousity.

"Don't you geddit, Slayer?" Spike eyes now staring at her. "I turned her! M'own mum!" He looked to his boots again.

"Oh," Buffy's comment was without emotion.

"Yeah, what a poor excuse for a son! I turned my own fuckin' mother. And then I had to stake her!"

A sharp intake of breath spoke to Buffy's shock.

"So, yeah, worst day of my life, unlife, whatever." A hard edge had crept into his voice.

"I'm sorry. But sounds like you had no choice." came a small voice from beside him.

Spike looked up at Buffy, making no attempt to hide his amazement.

Buffy continued, "It's clear you loved your mom, Spike. You tried to cure her illness but you couldn't bear for her to be a vampire. I get that. I do, really."

"Bless you, luv, you have such a good opinion of people. But it wasn't because mum was a vamp. Me and Dru had this idea of being a family with me mum. Would've been good that. We could've ditched Peaches an' that bitch Darla. Could've had our own clan." He paused to catch his unneeded breath.

"So why …"

"Why did I stake her, me own mum? 'Coz I didn' understand that turning vamp changes you. It hadn't changed me. I felt the same way as I did before I got turned. Stronger, yeah. But I was still me. But Dru, bless her cotton socks, she didn' explain the vamp thing properly. Hell, stupid cow was so out of her skull, thanks to that git Angelus, that she couldn't explain shit. But I didn' know that; trusted wot she told me. So I didn' know mum would come back wrong. She wasn't me mum. Mum was kind, lovin', gentle. Mum as a vamp was gross and vulgar. She wouldn't've wanted to've lived like that. She would've hated that. So I did the only thing I could do; I dusted her."

Tears were now rolling down Spike's face and Buffy raised her hand and wiped a tear from his cheek.

"It's ok, Spike, you didn't know. How could you know? You did what you had to do. You shouldn't beat yourself up about it.

Without warning Spike's tears became huge sobs and his shoulders slumped as he wept freely. This time it was Buffy who threw her arms around Spike as she tried to reassure him in his obvious distress.

Spike hugged Buffy back, grateful for the first opportunity in over a century to genuinely grieve for his mother and for his part in her death. Buffy, tears now falling again down her own cheeks, murmured words of comfort.

The two hugged each other until their tears had run dry. Slowly the couple disentangled their arms. Spike felt awkwardness fall heavily even as the weight of his sorrow was lifting. He found himself lost for words for probably the first time in his life.

"Spike," Buffy whispered, "thank you."

"S'me who should be thanking you, pet. I've never told anyone 'bout me mum before. Guess I hadn' let go of my grief."

"I'm sorry about your mom, Spike. But you know you weren't to blame, don't' you? You did what any loving son would do in that situation. You tried to help her; to save her life. That can't be wrong Spike."

Spike didn't know how to respond. He had always felt his culpability deeply.

"Thanks, pet. But I shouldn've burdened you with my worries. Not when you have your own troubles." He swallowed visibly, then continued, "Um, I'd like to help if I can."

"You have, Spike, honestly. I feel better now, I do really. I mean, I'm still upset but I don't feel so, so, empty, I guess." Buffy smiled shyly at him.

Spike sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"Look, I dunno what's happened here, luv," his hand gestured between them, "but I think it's like they say: 'a trouble shared is a trouble halved'. For both of us, yeah?"

Buffy nodded.

A silence descended, broken suddenly when Spike asked almost brightly, "Fresh cuppa?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect, and for fun, not profit. I promise to return them when I've finished with them.

**An Ending and a Beginning**

"Fresh cuppa?" Spike asked almost brightly.

He leant forward and gathered up their mugs, both still filled to the brim with tea that was now cold.

"Mmm, please," Buffy replied, matching Spike's tone.

Neither spoke while Spike waited for the kettle to boil and the tea bags to mash. When he turned back carrying two steaming mugs, he noticed Buffy had curled her legs under her and was leaning against the back of the sofa. She looked comfortable, relaxed.

"Here'yar, pet." He handed Buffy her mug and, without thinking, sat next to her on the sofa.

"Mmm, thanks."

Buffy took the proffered mug and leaned back.

Not being one for silence, Spike decided to tackle what had just transpired head on. He took a sharp, unneeded breath, "Slayer, we gotta talk."

Buffy looked up, raising her eyebrows in query.

Spike continued, "Dunno 'bout you, luv, but I think things have changed here. Changed a lot since I first came to the Hellmouth to fix up Dru. Then I thought I'd bag me my 3rd Slayer. Then I met you an' your mum. There's somethin' 'bout Summers women."

He smiled almost shyly. "Well any rate, you've made it clear I'm a nuisance to you and now your mum is no longer with us I know I'm not gonna be welcome at the Summer's household. And now this little angst-fest just now is likely to make things a tad more uncomfortable between us.

"I don' wanna outstay my welcome; me mum always said that was rude. I may be a rude, bad man but I was raised a gentleman. 'Sides, I know when my card's marked."

The smile had gone and he ran his hands through his hair, sighing. "I'll leave Sunnydale, Slayer. Get out of yer hair."

Buffy sat stock still and blinked. Spike couldn't tell what was going through her mind. For a man so good at reading people, a trait that had served him well in over a century of dining on humans while attracting little attention from the authorities, he failed miserably to understand the sentiments and motivations of those close to him. Hell, he could hardly work out his own needs and desires.

"You're l-leaving?" Buffy half whispered.

"I reckon it's for the best. You don' want me hangin' around, you made that patent with revoking my invite to your place. Guess it's not like you're gonna make me hot chocolate like yer mum, is it?" Spike stared at his boots, looking thoroughly miserable.

Spike sighed again. "Look Slayer. You've made it quite clear you'll never return the feelings I have for you, not while you're conscious anyway." He intoned with heavy sarcasm, ignoring Buffy's snort. "And I guess you crying on my shoulder just now isn't gonna have you joinin' my fan club any time soon. I may be love's bitch but I'm not bloody stupid. No point in floggin' a dead horse.

"With yer mum gone and you despisin' me there's no reason to stay here. I'll get the hell outta Dodge."

After a short silence, Buffy asked quietly, "You'd do that? Leave Sunnydale? For good?"

"Yeah, Slayer. You want me gone. You'll have yer plate full now and I don' wanna add to your worries. I'll leave you in peace and you'll never see me again, promise."

"You're leaving?

"Yeah. Know when I'm beat, Slayer."

"You're leaving?

"Thought that's wot I just said. Didn' have you pegged as deaf, luv."

"I'm not deaf!" Buffy's voice was only one notch down from shrieking. "I'm not deaf. I heard you just fine. Like I heard my Dad, Angel, Riley. You're leaving! Yeah, I got that loud and clear."

"Hey, I'm not like those gits!" Spike protested, jumping up out of his seat to face Buffy, indignant and confused.

Buffy rose slowly to stand within a few inches of Spike, matching his stance.

"How are you not like them Spike? How exactly? You've all professed to love me. Yet they walked out on me and now you're doing the same. So from where I'm standing I can't see that you're any different from them?" Her voice was low and reverberated with repressed anger.

"I don' understand Slayer. You say you hate me, want me gone. And when I give you what you want you throw a hissy fit! I get that yer upset, with yer Mum an' all, but make up yer fuckin' mind why don'cha." Spike couldn't believe how one minute he had an armful of tearful Slayer and the next she's tearing him a new one.

"Me, make up my mind? Take your own advice, why don't you? One minute you're all 'I love you and I'll kill Dru for you to prove it', then you're all with the Goodbyes."

As if this day wasn't weird enough already. Spike grabbed Buffy's shoulders with both hands, ignoring her finch as he did so. "Look, you stupid bint, I _do_ love you. I always will. Don't understand it, can't explain it, but there it is. And yeah, I'm leaving 'cause you've made it abundantly clear that you want me gone. You hate me with a passion and I don't have a cat in hell's chance with you. Why would I stay?"

Buffy raised her arms up to bat away his hands. "Why? Why? Perhaps because you love me, perhaps because you don't want to add your name to that long list of men who have declared their love for me and then run for the hills as fast as their lying feet could carry them."

"Lying feet?" Spike smirked in spite of himself.

"Look Mister, you know what I mean. Hell, I just lost my Mom and now you're leaving too and ……" Suddenly angry Buffy was gone, replaced with the one Spike had seen earlier, the one who needed a shoulder to cry on. He fleetingly wondered why he always picked the crazy birds, but then he was easing a tearful, compliant Slayer back down on to the sofa.

"It's ok, nothing bad's gonna happen. I'm sorry I upset you. Bad timing 'n all. I get that. But I thought you wanted me outta your hair. S'only reason I was going – to do right by you."

Buffy sniffed loudly and whined, "They all say that! They all think they know what's best for me." Her voice took on a deeper tone as she attempted to mimic first her father, then Angel: '_You'll be better off with your mother'_; '_you need a normal life._'"

A sob escaped her lips before she continued in her usual voice, "Even Riley denied how I felt for him as if only he could know what I'm feeling. No one asks ME!"

"Didn' need to ask you pet, you were very clear." Spike said sadly. Then it was his turn for imitation: "Remember? '_Spike, just go away'_; '_why are you still here_?' and my personal favourite, '_you're beneath me_'."

Buffy turned her head to look at him, her face showing her shock at his words, or perhaps at hers.

"Spike, I …I …"

"No, Slayer. You can't have it both ways. Those other gits, they didn't listen to you. They made decisions for you, made assumptions about want you needed or what you were feeling. I get that. But I listened to you. I admit it took a while for the penny to drop – never claimed to be quick on the uptake. But I did get the message in the end. You want me gone. I'll go. That's what you wanted, isn' it?"

"Yeah but, no but, yeah but, no but …."

"Whoa, hold yer horses, pet! Yer channelling Vicky Pollard there!"

A blank look had Spike making a mental note to lend her his _Little Britain_ DVD.

"Look Slayer, it's a simple enough question. Do you want me to go?"

Even with his vampire hearing, he nearly missed the reply.

"No."

Careful not to knock against the two mugs there, he perched on the edge of the makeshift coffee table so he could look directly into Buffy's face as he asked her for clarification:

"Buffy, do you want me to stay in Sunnydale?"

A small voice answered, "Yes. Please."

"For Heaven's sake Slayer, why did you tell me to go?"

Buffy drew in a large breath, "Because, well, because you can be such a pain in the arse!"

"Er, yeah! Evil here, luv!"

"See!"

"Ok, ok. Let's try this another way, shall we? Why do you want me to stay?"

Buffy's eyes were shimmering as though she was trying not to cry. "I did want you to go, yeah. But everybody's gone now, Riley, Angel, my mom." She bit her lip. "I'm alone. I can't do this alone."

Spike instinctively grabbed at her hands and clasped them in his. "Buffy, luv. You're not alone. You have the Scoobies."

She looked at him pitifully, "But it's not the same. It's not the same as having someone on your side, someone who'll support you, not judge you. I mean I love my friends, I do. But they're all with the judging and the expecting stuff of me. They can't take the place of a boyfriend or my mom …"

Something lodged in Spike's brain but he couldn't break his concentration to grasp what it was.

The tears Buffy had been battling broke through and she pulled her hands from Spike's to cover her face as she sobbed once again. Through her fingers Spike heard her wail, more to herself, "What's wrong with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you, Buffy," Spike began softly, gently pulling her hands from her face. "You're a strong, powerful woman. There isn't anything you can't do, luv. But you have a stressful life with the world-saving gig and now you've had a bereavement coming on top of the end of a relationship. Not surprising you're feelin' a bit buffeted. Would be surprised if you were'n' knocked sideways by all that's happened, pet.

"An' if it means that much to you, I'll stay. If you're sure, I mean?"

Buffy nodded silently, her tears ebbing.

"Ok, luv, now we've got that sorted, how about we finish our tea before it gets cold again." Not waiting for a reply he handed Buffy her mug and, taking his, he shifted back to the sofa.

Slayer and Slayer of Slayers sat side by side sipping tea together. Spike mused that if he thought too much about the situation he found himself in, his head might explode. It felt like he was in one of Dru's visions and half expected to see Miss Edith sitting with them with her bone china cup and saucer. If he'd used fresh tea leaves instead of teabags he would have been tempted to check the teapot for a dormouse.

Buffy's voice bought him back from his musings.

"Um, you don't mind staying do you?" She shot him a quick glance.

Spike shifted to face her once more. "No Buffy," he said quietly, "I don' mind staying. Do anything for you pet. You know that, right?"

She nodded.

"But Buffy, here's the thing," he continued, "it's gotta change."

She looked up then. "What? What has to change?"

"The way you treat me, luv. I'm not your personal punch bag. You can't use me to work off your frustrations. I know sometimes your life is frightening, chaotic, overwhelming. But I'm on your side, Slayer. It's against all the laws of this world and others, but there it is!"

"I don't know that I want to be, um, mean to you anymore. You've kinda helped me tonight and I know my Mom really did like you. She didn't put marshmallows in her hot chocolate for just anyone." Buffy smiled weakly.

Spike echoed her smile and offered her his little finger. "Truce? Pinky swear?"

Buffy's smile broadened as she extended her hand to his. "Yep, truce! No more bitch-Buffy!"

As their pinky fingers touched there was a shift in the atmosphere around them. Both of them had been looking at their linked fingers but as they felt the subtle change in the air they raised their heads to look in each others eyes.

"D'you feel that?" Spike murmured under his breath, breaking his connection with her.

The Slayer nodded slightly in confirmation. Then she leant forward and placed a feather-light kiss of Spike's lips.

Spike's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

"Buffy?"

Buffy's cheeks coloured but she held his gaze.

"What, er, why?" he asked without being able to fully articulating his thoughts.

"Um, I just wanted to say 'thank you'. For tonight; for being a friend to my Mom; for staying."

"Yer welcome, pet. I'd do anything for you. Want you to know that."

"I do and I'm grateful. You won't see ungrateful Buffy again!" Another smile lit up her face.

"Don' want gratitude, luv," he said huskily. It wasn't so much a statement of what he didn't want as a declaration of what he needed.

"I know," Buffy murmered. "Give me time?" She craned her head up and kissed his lips again. This time Spike risked opening his mouth and to his evident surprise Buffy deepened the kiss, the tip of her tongue running softly over his upper lip.

Spike's arm went out instinctively to envelope her; hold her safe against him, uncaring now if he would frighten her away.

But she didn't pull back. Instead, her arms came up around his neck as she allowed Spike's tongue to explore her mouth.

When eventually they parted Spike noted that Buffy was flushed, but not from embarrassment this time. She had a knowing smile on her lips that, while striking him as the sexiest thing he had seen, almost made him feel uneasy. And didn't he remember her saying having the Scoobies as friends wasn't the same as having a boyfriend. Did he dare hope…..?

"I liked that," she breathed.

"Plenty more where that came from," Spike replied with a glint in his eye.

"Show me? "

The next moment Spike's tongue was parting her lips and he was pushing her gently to lie back on the sofa.

Lips clashed and tongues parried as hands began a tentative exploration. Spike was half lying across her, one hand stroking her cheek. Buffy moved one of her hands from caressing his neck down to the small of his back. She pulled him closer to her, arching into him, but froze as she felt something hard against her stomach.

Spike understood her sudden tenseness and broke their kiss to whisper:

"S'okay, luv. Won't do anything you don' want me to."

To his surprise, she replied softly, "I know." Then her lips were on his again, open and demanding.

Neither could tell how long they had been kissing; it felt like hours but it also seemed like not long enough. They broke their kiss but continued to lie together looking into each others eyes as if they could read the answers to the riddles of existence there.

Buffy was the first to break the silence. "I, um, I think I, um, might have, um, feelings for you," she mumbled.

If his heart hadn't been dead it would have leapt from his chest at her revelation.

"Buffy?" Spike's voice was hoarse and betrayed his insecurity.

"Don't make a big thing of this Mister!" Buffy smiled. "Just saying I might like to, um, you know, um, see you again."

"Of course, pet. You know I'll always be here for you as long as you want me."

They smiled at one another, an understanding being reached in their gaze.

In the midst of grief at an ending, they had found happiness in a beginning.

**FIN**


End file.
